Don't look at me in that tone of voice
by gopherwhote
Summary: I neither know nor care if this has been done before. Aiieee! Mysterious forces are causing Jean to project wildly, affecting and being affected by the more....base emotions of those around her. Fun fun fun, rated for language. What'll she DO?


I own nothing. Nothing, I tell you. Weep for my non-owningness……

Don't Look at Me in That Tone of Voice

__________

Jean ran around the corner of the Institute, panting wildly. She flung up a hand to shield her eyes from the piercing late afternoon sun that hit her full force as she rounded the corner, failing to see the small raised tile leading to the patio as it caught her foot, sending her sprawling. Pushing herself up, she glanced over her shoulder fearfully. The day wasn't getting any better…..

~~~

Sitting in history class, squirming in her seat in the ninety degree weather, sweating out her boredom at a rather dim boy named Randy's pitiful attempt at reading aloud, Jean reflected on what a bad day she was having. Most days of late had an element of suck to them, as Kitty would say, now that the Institute was exposed. Speculative whispers followed each of the mutants now, from awe to curiosity, from disbelief to disgust. Unfortunately for Jean, she also had the rather unique position of receiving more than just words from passing students. A new and unexpected aspect of human evolution emerging evoked strong emotions in people, and when hoards of strong emotions are involved, not even a practiced telepath can develop shields adequate enough to block out-

"Jean? Jeeeeeeaaan?" Came a nasally whine from the front. Jean opened her eyes and brought her hand down from where she had been unconsciously rubbing her temple.

"Uh, yes, Mr. Conway? Sorry. My mind wandered." A babble of mental speculation started up at Jean's choice of words before she could silence it. "What..?"

"The next paragraph?"

Jean hastily scanned the mind of the boy sitting next to her. "Of course." Clearing her throat, she began reading aloud from page 365, continuing where an immensely relieved Randy had left off. Mr. Conway harruphmed slightly to himself. He had a perverse delight in catching students not paying attention. He was a balding, whining, idiotic man whose misguided attempts to make himself seem cool in order to identify with his students merely made them want to strangle the crooked smile off his red, pockmarked face. 

"-marked the spirit of the sixties in the surrounding urban area until the turn of the next decade." Jean finished, with a fleeting juvenile urge to stick her tongue out at her teacher. Mr. Conway gave her an insincere smile and tried to catch a boy named Brandon napping. Jean studiously ignored the looks the other students were shooting her way. There was no way to tell whether they were wondering about her 'mind wandering' comment, or if they were the looks any mutant got from the high school population. Which didn't add to her present mood. Being a telepath, she was bombarded with projected emotions and images every day, usually in regards to herself, as she walked the halls between classes. Today's had been particularly….intimate. Someone, she hadn't been able to catch who, had shouldered her aside on her way to her last class. Absorbed in her thoughts and trying to shut out the cacophony around her, the bump had startled her, causing her to drop her shields enough to receive a….rather _detailed_ image of herself, and what the sender thought she might look like in a more invasive setting. Though the sender had failed to realize she was a _natural_ redhead, making it a bit inaccurate. She shook her head and sighed. Duncan hadn't been the last to see a sexual element to her powers. Hell, she'd caught thoughts of sexual connotations in regards to _Evan's_ powers. People were just sick. That's all there was to it. She glared at the students surrounding her, as though faulting them for the perverseness she could practically feel seeping into her mind. Sick, sick, perverts. Sick nasty _naughty_ people…..sick nasty naughty thoughts…..naughty naughty naughty naughty. 

Jean giggled to herself. Several people turned to stare at her questioningly, a few with the ever-present disgust, and she blushed, hurriedly turning back to the text a girl with a thick accent was laboring through. She began rifling through the pages of her history book, making a satisfying noise like that of a deck of cards being shuffled. The student who she had borrowed the page number from shot her a look of annoyance. She stopped and merely tapped quietly on the top of the page, 365. She flipped forward two pages, 367, 369, and covered the first digit with her pencil. She gave a short chuckle, her thumb joining her first finger in beating a rhythm on the defenseless textbook. She cleared her throat gently and forced the smile off her face. The student next to her glanced over at her again, in a more confused shade of annoyance. Jean's lips were writhing, trying to contain the idiotic laughter that kept threatening to break to the surface. 

He furrowed his eyebrows in the universal 'what the hell?' expression, before turning back to the pictures of a skewered Mr. Conway he was doodling on a sheet of lined binder paper already covered with the results of that period's boredom. Jean began jiggling her leg under her desk, practically dancing with pent-up energy and frustration. She glared at the clock, eleven minutes until the end of the day. It had been seventeen minutes the last time she had checked, half an hour ago. Wouldn't this day ever END?

"Isn't this day ever going to END?" shrieked a girl from the back of the class, shattering the relative peace of the classroom and making everyone jump. Megan by name, she was rather unremarkable and bookish, and seldom spoke. Gursharon stopped reading, and all the students turned to stare at the normally reserved girl's unexpected outburst. "Umm….sorry."

"Ms. Anderson! You can stay with me after class, m'kay?"

_M'kay? _Jean mimicked in her head.

"M'kay," Megan replied.

"M'kay," Mr. Conway replied.

Jean began to worry.

"M'kay," Megan began to look hunted. "I mean m'……sorry Mr. Conway."

"M'kay," Mr. Conway nodded self-importantly.

"You balding, whining, idiotic man whose misguided attempts to make yourself seem cool in order to identify with your students merely made them want to strangle the crooked smile off your red, pockmarked face….." Megan finished with her mouth hanging open. The students broke into disbelieving laughter and hooting.

Jean really began to worry.

"Oh sssss_snap_!" came Brandon's helpful comment from the front. Mr. Conway was staring in outraged disbelief at the horrified-looking Megan.

_Oh shit…._Jean sank down in her seat. Mr. Conway was looking less disbelieving and more outraged. Jean covered her face with her hands. She knew what was happening. _Oh…….SHIT. _

__

A rather girlish yelp drew her attention as Mr. Conway's eyes bulged, his face turning the deepest shade of scarlet Jean had ever seen before screeching "Class dismissed" and running from the room like a bow-legged child. Jean closed her book carefully. _What the hell?_

"What the hell?"

"What the _hell?"_ echoed around the classroom. Jean closed her eyes and concentrated on emptiness. For some reason, she couldn't concentrate, as a conversation between Evan and Kurt that had involved the phrase 'meatless monday' kept echoing in her mind. _Empty…..empty….empty….what's up…..meatless no! Empty empty empty….._

The room had gone eerily silent. Jean opened her eyes to see every member of the class standing, all facing the same direction, with identical glazed looks on their faces. The phrase 'meatless monday' echoed quietly around the room, not unlike a bad horror movie, as it was murmured in unison from twenty-six mouths. A sense of dread began tearing at the corners of Jean's mind. 

__

Ohhhhh……Jean concentrated on the door. _Door….nice door. Odd door…..honey colored wood, with peeling varnish….looks like sap…..varnish the door with sap….save money…..textbook in bag….papers in bag….stand, bag on shoulder…goooood….._

"Goooooooooooood…" hissed the students in an circulating whisper. One of the students began wailing at the top of her lungs with Jean's horror. Decorum fled, and Jean bolted, running from the room and slamming the door behind her. The sounds of bodies connecting with the door followed her as she ran down the empty hallway, past the vending machines the consumer whores that sat on the school board had decided to install, into an empty corner of the foyer leading to the gym, in a hollow that contained two bathroom doors facing each other with a drinking fountain between them. She leaned against the wall, panting, a hand to her forehead. She fought the urge to begin laughing hysterically. She took several deep, calming breaths. 

"Look at them titties…." she murmured to herself. _Wait…..what?_ She blinked, and the urge to laugh hysterically rose as she realized she had been staring down the front of her own shirt, gazing with someone else's lust at the tops of her own breasts. _Ok, Jean, calm down. I don't know what's happening, but the Professor will help. Why have I suddenly started projecting? What-m'kay? M'kay…….m'kay?….._

Jean started away from the wall as she heard the bell echo directly above her. She stared at the clock. She had been leaning against the wall, repeating the same thing in her head over and over for nearly ten minutes. She realized she was still muttering the words under her breath and stopped. She could hear a voice coming from the boy's bathroom now, directly to her left. Sliding over, she gave the door a hesitant shove, cocking her head slightly. It was Mr. Conway, locked in a stall and muttering the word 'm'kay' to himself frantically over and over, pure and utter mortification come off him in waves. Jean started to back away, started to ease the door shut.

_Must get home…..must fix…..must fix….must-………….Holy Mother Mary…._ Jean couldn't help herself. She laughed out loud as what she had done filtered through the desperate and humiliated rambling in Mr. Conway's head. She leaned against the doorframe, cackling madly. Tears began to leak out the corner of her eyes. She barely registered the identical maniacal laughter coming from the stall that held Mr. Conway. The professor had lectured her about projecting, and the danger of compelling people against their will, both in fear of social repercussions and a sense moral responsibility, but this was just-

"Hey there sweetie, you got the wrong door."

Jean shook her head hard and cut off abruptly, taking a moment to focus on the slightly taller boy with short gelled black hair grinning down at her. She stared dumbly at him, sweeping her eyes from him to the logo on the door, and back again. 

"Mmmm…muh? Oh." She plastered her normal cheek-dimpling smile on. "Thanks…." Hot rushing, filling her face and sweeping in a warm tide down her chest…She took one rushing step forward and grabbed his crotch roughly. "_….*sweetie*."_ Her eyes widened and her hand sprang away as if burned. Her hand crept up to cover her gaping mouth before she realized where it had just been. She stuck it behind her back and clenched her hand into a fist instead. The look on the boy's face was such a mix that Jean began giggling madly under her breath. "Uh…." she said breathily. "Have a nice day?" The boy stood staring bewildered at her. 

Abandoning dignity, she darted around him and took off at a dead run towards the front steps leading out of the school. She left a very confused boy in her wake, standing with one hand on the bathroom door, trying to decide how he should feel about what had just happened.

"Um……..thank you?"

_________________

Weee-hooo. I don't know why I wrote this. I have a vague gnawing suspicion of where it's going, but this is my first leap into Evo-dum, and I'm still not sure what compelled me to do it. But yes.

If the fist paragraph confused you, oh, just wait, prettys. It will make sense soon. This is just the beginning. More fun and mayhem next chapter, which has everyone's favorite brain tumor, DUNCAN! Weeeee!

*coughs*

This might be my last Evo fic. I don't know. ::does a merry jig:: I have this compulsive need for hideously long author notes…..I go now.

and this is how I go when I go like this.


End file.
